Stay of Execution

43

It made Stevie Steele feel strange to see someone else sitting behind Maggie’s desk, yet, given their life-changing weekend, it gave him less difficulty than might have been the case otherwise. They had wakened together for the second morning in succession, the difference being that this was a working day.

There had been no awkwardness, though. He had left the en suite bathroom to Maggie and had used the one downstairs to prepare himself for the day. He was not sure what Mary Chambers’s style would be so he had selected one of his better suits, a white shirt and a plain, sober tie.

‘Mmm, smart,’ Maggie had said, eyeing him up as he came into the kitchen.

‘You can talk, ma’am. Are you going to wear that uniform every day from now on?’

‘Why? Does it make me look like an old frump?’

‘Not in the slightest, honey. Does this make me look like a civil servant?’

She had grinned at that. ‘It makes you look like an ambitious young DI who’s out to make an impression on the new boss.’

‘Am I overdoing it?’

‘Not at all. She’ll take that as a compliment.’

She had too. In fact, Detective Superintendent Mary Chambers had dressed much as he had for her first morning in the new rank, in a dark, almost formal trouser suit. Her plain, square early-forties face was adorned by a minimum of makeup, and her dark grey-flecked hair was cut short, but not severely so.

He had made for her office as soon as he had arrived at the station; he had given Maggie a five-minute head start before leaving Gordon Terrace, yet the unpredictability of the traffic flow had resulted in them driving into the car park as if they had travelled in convoy. Twenty minutes short of nine, but his new boss had been there, and for some time too, as the papers piled around her indicated.

‘Let’s sort out the ground rules, Inspector,’ she said, as he settled into the chair opposite, the one from which he had looked at her predecessor so many times. ‘I’m an informal operator, like Maggie, so between us it’s Mary and Stevie, unless you’ve any problem with that.’

‘Fine by me, boss.’

‘Boss!’ she grunted. ‘I like that. It makes me sound like Fergie.’

‘Which one?’ he asked, and they both laughed, breaking any ice between them for good.

‘Maggie’s marked my card about the team. What’s your take on them?’

Steele went through the divisional CID staff one by one, appraising each. He began with Tarvil Singh, but left George Regan till last. It did not escape her. ‘Will I have any bother with him?’ she asked. ‘I’ve heard that Dan Pringle’s his role model.’

‘George is all right; his views of women officers may sound non-PC, but in the main they’re bullshit, for show. He likes to think of himself as a dinosaur, but actually he’s reasonably warm-blooded. That makes him vulnerable to the image of him walking round the track at Tynecastle in a sergeant’s uniform, and aware of the need to do everything he can to avoid that ever happening.’

‘He can cope with having a female boss?’

‘Sure.’

‘One who lives with another woman?’

‘Regan is many things, but he’s not prejudiced. For example, he’s coping fine with having a Sikh for a partner. He’s also coping without having my size eleven up his arse, and he wants to keep it that way.’

‘You’ve got a way with words, young Stevie. Now tell me, how am I going to get on with Dan Pringle? I’ve heard it said that Maggie’s promotion wasn’t his idea.’

Steele frowned. ‘I doubt if Dan was even consulted. He’s only got a couple of years left, at most; moving Mags, and you for that matter, was a strategic decision, and its effects will be felt after he’s gone. Sometimes DCS Pringle feels as if he’s been parked on a siding. . and maybe he has. From time to time that makes him throw his weight about. The only advice I can give you on that is, when he’s right listen to him, and when he’s wrong bloody well tell him.’

‘Thanks, Stevie, I’ll bear that in mind. I won’t have to worry about him for a day or two, though. He called me just before you came in to apologise for not being here to welcome me, but he’s hands-on with this toothpaste crisis.’

The DI looked puzzled. ‘What toothpaste crisis?’

‘Where have you been for the last twelve hours?’ Chambers exclaimed. ‘A guy out in East Lothian was poisoned by toothpaste laced with cyanide. He bought it in Newcastle on Friday. The whole thing’s gone national; there have been emergency announcements on the box and everything. The DCC’s put Dan in charge of the investigation.’

‘Mary, I haven’t seen a news report or read a paper since yesterday lunchtime. Are we involved?’

‘Not yet, and hopefully we won’t be. They’re hauling back all the toothpaste they can and testing it. As of this morning they haven’t found any more spiked tubes, and there haven’t been any other deaths. I imagine there are a lot of yellow teeth in Newcastle this morning, though.’

Steele grimaced. ‘I’d rather not think about that.’

‘Me neither. Let’s just hope it’s a one-off and they catch the nutter soon, well off our patch. And speaking of our patch, I’ve been reading the files on active and recent investigations. Anything you want to add to any of them?’

‘As a matter of fact. . Have you read the Whetstone file?’ The new superintendent nodded. ‘What’s your take?’

‘Same as everyone else’s. The man topped himself in the light of potential exposure, and possibly also in the knowledge of fatal disease.’

‘Yes. So now his son’s arrived back from the States and his mother wants us to talk to him, to explain it to him, I suppose.’

‘Is it our job to do that?’

Steele found himself wondering if her question was a test. ‘Technically no, but I’ve always found that in this job I can make myself feel a bit better as a person by doing what’s right, not just what’s required. I’ll go alone if you’d rather, but I thought you’d like to come.’

Mary Chambers smiled and rose from her chair. ‘You thought right. I think you and I are going to get on, young Stevie; I can see now what the new chief super sees in you.’

He blinked, hard.